Hero
by Avai
Summary: Bug was content to live as a duct rat on the Citadel. After all, it was the only life she knew. All she needed was her best friend Sticky and they could survive anything the Citadel threw at them- geth, Cerberus, and reapers. Until Sticky doesn't make it. On her search through the wreckage, Bug finds a certain Commander and saves her life. This is that story.
1. The Great Escape

Chapter 1: The Great Escape

Short, hard breaths and the pounding of two sets of feet were the only sounds echoing throughout the rather large duct system within the Citadel Tower. It felt like it was getting harder to breathe in here, even though these ducts are the main oxygen dispensers for the Tower.

"Bug! You're the one who wants to see Commander Shepard at the Council. Stop being such a slow poke and hurry up!" the twanging voice of my best friend echoed back from his position in the duct above me, the last jump up I'd have to make for the vantage point I wanted.

"Not all of us are freakin' faster-than-anythin' turians, Sticky! I don't have as much stamina as you and we've been runnin' nonstop for ten minutes!" I managed to say back, coughing a bit after the last word from pure exhaustion but reaching the small ladder that would bring me to where Sticky was. I started to climb up.

On the last rung, a three-fingered hand enclosed my wrist and pulled me up in one awkward motion.

"Thanks." I said, getting ready for another running session. The short (but still taller than me) adolescent alien rolled his bright green eyes at me and crouched down with his back towards me.

"Get on." He commanded, his maturing voice wobbling between a high and low pitch. I giggled at the sound. It reminded me of when Mouse's voice broke, before he left our trio to become a duo.

I gave a thankful sigh as I collapsed on Sticky's back. He stood up without a problem and started running as if I weighed no more than Terry, the three-legged stuffed space monkey I had tucked under my arm.

I loved Terry. The little asari that owned him threw a fit one day in the commons and ripped off one of the legs. Her mother threw him out. Sticky scavenged and fixed him up for my eighth birthday last year. I never went anywhere without him.

The light at the end of the duct let me know that we were coming up to our destination, faster than if I was left to run the distance alone. I laughed when Sticky swung me around and put me down so that I could look through the mesh covering of the duct.

It had to be at least a six-story fall if the mesh broke, but our hard work was rewarded. Down below, Sticky and I could clearly see the three imposing figures of the Council standing across from a human woman. The woman and a few companions separated from the politicians by a chasm of glass. They were tiny, although I could still see a few details.

I couldn't help the excited smile that crossed my face as I took in my hero. She looked impressive on most of the news vids I managed to download onto my crappy omni-tool, but the grainy images do her no justice. She was not beautiful in a traditional sense, a bit too tall and broad with a few scars riddling her face, but her bright red hair was tied back into a professional bun and she was standing proudly, like she owned the ground she stood on.

I want to look like that, one day. Not crawling around in the ducts or scavenging for food. I want to look that proud. I want to be someone.

"Commander Shepard, step forward." I took in a sharp breath, hoping that the Council was going to do what I was hoping the Council would do.

"Excited, Bug?" Sticky asked me, amusement ringing clearly through his flanging voice. I could do nothing else but nod, unable to find anything to say.

The moment was like magic, and I would remember it for the rest of my life. Judging from the way that the crowds of people from all the Council species were hanging over the edge of the railing in the observance areas of the Tower, I wouldn't be the only one. I took a quick glance at the dark-plated turian beside me and giggled at the enraptured look on his face, one I was sure mirrored my own.

Not even Sticky, the guy who is more concerned about our survival and not much else, is immune to the magic.

"It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel," the asari councilor said. The whole tower was so silent that her voice carried clearly up to the ceiling where Sticky and I were hiding.

They were doing it!

"Spectres are not trained, but chosen. Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle; those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file," the salarian added on, a slight tone of disbelief in her voice.

"Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will," the asari spoke once more. She was the calmest and most accepting of the three councilors. I liked her. Judging by what I thought was a slight incline of her head, Commander Shepard did to. Unless I totally imagined it, which I probably did.

"Spectres bear a great burden. They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy if theirs to uphold," the turian said, his posture stiff and unyielding.

"You are the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species," the asari spoke once more. Despite not being a member of the Alliance, a result of being raised a duct rat, I felt a pride in myself. It was silly, I know, but I couldn't help the way I felt.

Loud clanging noises drowned out whatever the Commander replied to the Council. I groaned at the loud approach of the keeper. No doubt it would drive us away from our spot, given the lack of room. The ducts may be large, but they were not built for a human, turian, and keeper to occupy the same space. I signed resignedly and pulled on Sticky's tattered shirt, motioning at the incoming bug-like alien.

"Are you sure you want to go? It won't hurt us. It'll just be annoying until we leave," Sticky said, still kneeling down by the edge of the duct opening. I shook my head in response, disappointed but logical.

"We can't hear anythin', anyways. No point in stayin' if a keeper is keepin' us from hearing what's going on," I replied, shrugging. Sticky didn't need much convincing, and he stood up next to me. He took my hand and we jumped over the opening, racing away from the incoming keeper.

* * *

"Geez, Sticky, you're gettin' less lanky every day! We're gunna have ta' change your name, at this rate!" I exclaimed, taking in my best friend. The skinny, stick-like limbs that were Sticky's namesake were gaining sinewy muscle. As a result, Sticky was starting to look like a proper turian instead of a tiny and underfed one.

"Thanks, Bug. You're just noticing this now?" he asked in response, tilting his head to the side. I shrugged sheepishly.

"Yep. I always forget how much faster turians age than humans. You're only two years older than me. Humans don't start maturin' 'till, like, thirteen or fourteen or something like that. At least, that's how old Mouse was when he went through it," I mused, staring down into the water of the Presidium lake. Sticky and I were both sitting on the edge, our legs peeking through the railing that blocked people off from randomly falling in.

"Well, I am eleven as of today. That's only two or three years earlier, so it's not that far off," Sticky said. His comment about his birthday was factual, as if it was something unimportant. I smiled, holding my present between my palms. He sent a curious glance towards my closed two-handed fist, but decided not to say anything. He turned away, taking in the unrealistic beauty that was the Presidium.

I sent him a message earlier to meet me here. We don't usually come to the Presidium, and especially not out in the open, but it was a special day even if Sticky disregarded it. I pulled myself back form leaning out of the railing, turning toward my best friend.

"Sticky," I said, tapping his shoulder. He pulled himself out from the railing and looked towards me.

"Put your hands out an' close your eyes," I said, trying and failing to hide my excitement. The charcoal-colored turian groaned, because he hates surprised, but obliged me anyway.

I placed the metal necklace, warmed from an hour of being held in my hands, into his talons. I smiled proudly when I saw the look of utter disbelief and happiness of his face.

It was a homemade dog tag. It wasn't as nice as actual dog tags, but I tried my best to make it as similar to the turian ones as possible. Real turian dog tags were rounder than the Alliance ones but other than that there was no big difference.

The tag was made of a discarded metal credit chit. Most chits were plastic or a similar substance but wealthy people who wanted to show off could buy the more expensive metal ones. I borrowed a hammer from a construction crew on lunch break and pounded the chit down so that it was a blank slate. I also borrowed a lighter from where it was discarded next to the hammer and together both of the tools shaped the tag to be rounder. I didn't have anything to imprint his name on, so I took my pocket knife and carved in his name myself.

The result? A crappy-looking disfigured tag on a string, since I couldn't find a metal chain. But it took a lot of work, and I could tell by his smile that he realized that.

Sticky's always told me that he wants to serve the Hierarchy in the military. The problem is that he's barefaced and there's no official record on him, just like there was no official record on me. If there were records, we wouldn't know about it. That's why so many of our fellow duct rats become mercenaries and criminals.

The tag would be his record. It's not much, but it's something.

Sticky's mandibles widened into the biggest smile I've ever seen on him. He was tracing the _Sticy _that was etched into the metal, his claw delicately tracing each letter.

"Sticy?" he asked me, letting out a laugh and pronouncing it _Stye-cee. _I blushed in embarrassment.

"I didn' remember there was a 'k' in there 'till I was done," I mumbled out, almost inaudible. Sticky let out another laugh and tied the string round his neck. He glanced away from me, resting the side of his head on the railing that was conveniently at his head level.

"Sticky? What's wrong? Was it somethin' I did?" I asked, a small amount of worry seeping into my system. Did I just do something that turians consider bad?

"Yeah, Bug. It was something you did," he said, turning back towards me. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. I've never seen Sticky cry before.

Sticky was crying and oh my goodness what do I do I am horrible around crying people what do I say-

My thoughts were cut off when I was crushed against the plates of a turian chest. Sticky was shaking slightly and didn't say anything, but I knew what he was trying to say. I smiled and hugged him back.

Then our moment was interrupted by screams.

The both of us jumped up, heads snapping towards where the shrill sounds were coming from. Across the lake, we could see people being chased by machines. Gunshots rang out. A woman's chest was soaked with red, and she collapsed. I could feel the blood draining from my face.

"Are those... are those geth!" I gasped out, grabbing Terry from his position on the floor beside me. Sticky pulled his mandibles close to his face- his serious expression- and squinted at the scene. We heard distant mechanical whirrs. Sticky nodded.

"Let's go!" he said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me behind him on our way off the bridge. I was thankful that he was there- my knees were so weak that I would've collapsed otherwise. I gripped Terry in my free arm even tighter, trying to ignore the sounds of people screaming and machines getting louder. We darted away.

I was focused on my feet, only seeing the ground in front of me as my legs pumped as fast as possible. After a few minutes, I ran into Sticky's back. Looking up to see why we stopped, I nearly wet my pants.

Standing in front of us was a real, sentient geth. And it had a rocket launcher. We barely had time to duck behind a convenient potted plant before the rocket exploded where we were just standing.

A potted plant is not going to stop that monstrous thing from blowing us up.

"Bug, I have an idea," Sticky said, glancing around the edge of the plant. I stared at him with wide eyes, not needing to voice my question.

"That geth is standing right next to the lake," he said. My eyes widened even more, if that was possible. I had a feeling I knew where the plan was going.

"It has a rocket launcher. A. Rocket. Launcher. We are not goin' to get near that thing," I said. Even as I said that, the logic was sounder than anything I could have thought of. It takes a short amount of time to reload the launcher, in which we would rush the thing and push it over before it got any ideas of using the large weapon for melee purposes.

Sticky only stared at me, confidence and terror rivaling each other for the control of his facial expressions.

I sighed. Better to rush one geth and get away than wait, maybe get blown up, and face even more geth when they come. Sticky smiled shakily at my unvoiced acceptance.

"Okay, right when he shoots his next one, jump out from behind the pot. Make sure to stay away from the rocket. Run towards the thing and, well, push," Sticky said, shaky courage and determination overriding the fear I heard in his sub-vocals. I nodded my assent.

There was the whoosh of the rocket being let loose, and without waiting I jumped out of cover, knowing Sticky was doing the exact same thing. The rocket went past me, blowing my hair with the wind it stirred and leaving a trail of heat. I tried not to think as I ran up to the machine that was nearly as tall as Sticky was.

Sticky pushed the geth so that its back was against the railing, and I ducked down and grabbed its legs.

Geth are heavy.

I strained with the effort to heave the machine over, although Sticky was doing most of the work by focusing on its upper body and helping me with the legs.

After a small struggle, we won. The launcher was the first thing over, slipping out if its handler's hands. Then, the handler went after it. Sticky and I watched the AI splash into the clean water of the lake, sinking steadily. We didn't have time to revel in the win.

More whirrs and metallic stomping were coming our way, accompanied by various screams. Sticky and I glanced towards another and resumed running.

Our chests were heaving with the effort to breathe steadily, as the both of us were malnourished and unfit, but we managed to make it to where Sticky was leading us. My mouth dropped open at the sight of it.

There was a small chasm, barely five feet, between where we were and an open vent that led to the system of ducts that the both of us knew like the back of our hands. That chasm was so deep I couldn't see the end of it. We've never used that entrance to the ducts before, and with good reason.

"No," I said, stepping away from the edge. Sticky gripped my arm and kept me from moving away any further.

"It's the closest one. If we try to find another we'll probably be killed! Come on. I'll go first," he said reassuringly. I looked into the green eyes that I trusted so much and nodded, gesturing for him to go first as I gripped Terry in anticipation.

Sticky smiled and took a few steps back. He vaulted over the metal railing, stretched his long legs, and landed on the other side, clearing the edge by a few inches. I sighed in relief.

"JUMP!" Sticky shouted, gesturing behind me to where I'm sure some of the geth were coming.

I took a deep breath and tucked the space monkey against my side, holding him as tightly as possible in light of the incoming leap.

I ran, placed my feet on the railing, and jumped towards the vent.

* * *

I landed, wobbling uncertainly. I twisted my foot awkwardly after my ankle was caught by a random plant that was on the half wall I jumped over, but shook it off. I had to keep up with the two in front of me.

"What is it with the Citadel and getting attacked?" I screamed out in frustration, following the C-Sec officer who told us to stay with her. I glanced up at the turian next to me, a look of both annoyance and fear on my face.

Sticky was a good head and a half taller than me now, despite the fact that I've started growing too. Not only did turians develop early, but they also develop fast. After two years, Sticky was taller than most turian males while I was still at the average height for your average eleven year old human girl.

"It's Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. It just so happens that this wrong has happened before with a different type of attackers," my best friend replied. Despite the increasing danger of our situation, I looked curiously at him out of the corner of my eye.

"How'd you know about Murphy's Law?" I asked. His answer was delayed when the turian officer motioned for us to take cover as she spotted some people in white and yellow uniforms. The lady turian took cover behind a wall a few feet in front of us while Sticky and I crouched behind a counter in a store that had its windows broken.

"Extranet," he replied curtly, as if I should have known the answer. Of course. Sticky was one of the smartest people around and researched just about everything on the extranet, from food to propulsion systems to, apparently, human sayings. It was as if he had a thirst for learning, a thirst that I was lacking.

"Oh sh-" the C-Sec was cut off, her voice becoming gurgling gasps for air. I risked a glance over the counter.

A crouching female figure was standing over the dead C-Sec's body, a sword in one hand while the other hand was facing outwards. Her 'face' had four glowing eyes. It was creepier than anything I've ever seen. As a duct rat you see plenty of creepy things.

Oh shit, indeed.

"Can she smell us?" I whispered to Sticky, gripping the pistol I grabbed from the ground in between sweaty, shaking hands. We were out of her sight, staying behind the counter, and we were being as quiet as possible, but you never know what kind of enhancements people get.

"No, but she might _hear _us," he replied with a low and irritated growl. I flinched at the tone. I didn't mean to be stupid.

With an inaudible sigh (I could tell because his shoulders slumped) he took one of his hands off of his own pilfered pistol and ruffled my short hair with it.

"Remember the shooting lessons we got from Jay?" he asked me, calm despite the chaos that was going on around us. I nodded, recalling the burly old man that ran the weapon dealership. He would always give Sticky and I a portion of his lunch (although he claimed he never knew why his wife packed him dextro food) and gave us free shooting lessons for our self-defense. He left the Citadel, going back to Earth after the geth decided to drop by for a visit.

I wondered if he had managed to survive the invasion. I hoped he did. I liked him.

"This will just be like shooting the watermelon. We'll shoot it together on three. One...two..." Sticky didn't finish. We both leaned over the counter and shot at the same time. I closed my eyes as soon as I let the bullet fly loose.

* * *

I opened my eyes after passing through most of the smoke given off by the small fire I jumped over. I coughed at the strong scent handing in the air, a scent that would probably never wash out of my clothes. Well, if I ever got a chance to wash my clothes ever again.

"Where the hell are they coming from?" I heard the twanging voice from behind me. I was on my tenth heat sink, putting bullet after bullet into as many disfigured bodies as I could. Mostly, we were being swarmed by what looked like transformed batarians and humans. There were a few turians thrown in that mix, but we mainly tried to ignore them. It was me, Sticky, and a few others of the rapidly declining living population left on the Citadel. We all had the same goal.

Survive.

"I don't know! We just have to get to the docks! There will be a shuttle there!" I said back, running and shooting and shouting all at the same time. There had to be a shuttle. There was no way there couldn't be one. We did not survive two invasions within two years just to die in the third one.

There was no way. I didn't even let myself think of the possibility.

The corpses of every race littered the once empty and pristine hallway, now painted in the horrible muddy color that comes out when every color of the rainbow is mixed together. Red, yellow, blue, green...

The unmistakable stench of blood and death filled the air. I coughed, and the only thing that kept me from retching was the need to get away.

A young turian boy fell in front of me, and he didn't get back up. Other than Sticky, there was no other turians that could be linked to the kid in our small group. I didn't even think before scooping the small child up in my arms, after I realized that he was still breathing and more than likely exhausted. He couldn't have been more than five or six years old, and still small enough for me to carry him without too much difficulty.

I gritted my teeth and ran on, determined to make it to our destination. I wasn't going to leave anyone I didn't have to behind.

The small turian was sobbing and he stuck his head into the crook of my neck, his stubby fringe grazing my chin. I handed off my pistol to the woman who didn't have a weapon so that I could focus on keeping the kid safe, and I braced him against my body to try to negate the jarring that the running would have on him.

I heard a grunt, and two shots went past me. Sticky's larger than life form appeared beside me, his dark plates a contrast to the lighter ones of the smaller turian I held. He didn't say a word, but I had no doubt that he would protect all of us. I smiled shakily at him, summoning courage from the very pit of my scared soul.

We got through this twice before. We just have to do it again.

There were five others with us. Two salarians, a batarian, a krogan, and a hu-**BANG!**

Make that one salarian, a batarian, a krogan, and a human. That made four others.

I glanced around. We were getting close, and resistance was getting thinner. We were running into less Reaper forces as we went along.

And I thought the news vids were bad, the ones about Earth. It's so much worse in person.

I hate Reapers. And they hate me right back.

"It's stuck!" the salarian shouted from his place crouching by the jammed door.

"No shit," the krogan growled, pushing the salarian aside. He cracked his knuckles, rolled his head around, and charged the door, giving off a slight blue glow.

It worked.

With a massive sound, the metal ripped out of the wall. The kid whimpered at the sound, and I cooed at him to calm down despite the situation. We wasted no time getting through. My heart sunk at the sight.

There were no more shuttles available. No ships, no anything. I barely kept myself from collapsing on the ground.

"LOOK!" the human woman shrieked, pointing at the shuttle a few feet down and hovering slightly away from the docks. We wasted no time in trying to catch its attention, the growling and groaning of Reapers getting closer the longer we stayed on the Citadel.

They saw us, but didn't get any closer. They stayed where they were, hovering about five feet away from the edge of the docks. Two asari women, both a light shade of purple, were on either side of the back door and gesturing wildly for us to jump.

The krogan went first, than the batarian and the salarian. After the human woman went, it was our turn.

"Sticky, you go first!" I shouted, gesturing for him to go. He shook his head, pointing over his shoulder to the advancing husks that were no doubt being followed by the cannibals.

"I have a gun. You have a kid. You go first," he reasoned. I growled in response but couldn't refute his reasoning. I went first.

It was just like the time where I had to jump across the chasm, although I'm holding a child instead of a stuffed monkey and landing in a shuttle that will take me away from the only home I have ever known instead of jumping into a vent to save my skin from a couple of machines.

_One one thousand, two one thousand, three... _I landed on the shuttle, rolling so that I didn't squish the kid and I landed on my back. I glanced back out the back of the shuttle and gasped, not bothering to scramble off the floor that I landed on. If I did stand up, the combination of shaking knees and a jarring shuttle ride would send me right back on the floor.

Sticky was being swarmed by husks. One after another he would wrestle them off, just for another to take his place. They didn't give him the chance to shoot his pistol.

There was a cannibal coming up behind him.

"STICKY, LOOK OUT!" I shouted, praying that he could hear me.

He didn't.

After the last husk was dispatched, the cannibal opened up his mouth wide, screamed a horrible, discordant sound, and bit my best friend.

Correction. He bit my best friend's arm off.

I was bracing the kid against my shoulder, keeping him from seeing the horrible image. There was nothing but blue where there used to be a perfectly formed turian arm. Thick tears that mirrored my own, cried in pain instead of horror, were streaming down Sticky's face. Before he turned around to face the cannibal, he used his good arm to wave us off.

One of the asari women braced her arm on me to hold me back as the other closed the door. I was shaking, shrieking in my head for them to go back and get my best friend goddammit-

But in reality I did nothing. I sat there on the ground, immobile. Frozen.

"Harvester incoming!"

On the monitor, a large fireball was hurtling towards the side of the shuttle. The pilot tried his best to evade it, but simply wasn't fast enough. I didn't know what being hit like a train felt like-physically, at least. Watching your best friend get his arm bit off before a likely death is definitely heart-stopping.

Anyway, I would say that getting a direct hit from a Harvester's gun is about ten times worse.

The giant ball of fire hit us and tore the back of our shuttle off. The only thing I could do was to brace the kid in what could be his last hug, the soft plates of the young turian digging grooves into my skin, and close my eyes. I was waiting for the inevitable.

All I could feel was heat and my eardrums were throbbing and it was getting harder to breathe-

My entire world exploded around me.

**A/N: Well, I managed to write this. This is going to be a short series, no longer than a couple of chapters. It's just that this little plot has bugged me and if I finish it, not only will I have another (small) fanfiction under my belt but I will hopefully become a better writer. Even if I improve by a tiny fraction, I'll be happy. I have so much more to learn about writing. **

**Anyway, this is going to focus on a duct rat that will adopt Shepard, eventually (probably in the next chapter, but I don't know.) It's just a little 'after the war' story, and I'm not expecting too many readers. The ones I do get, though, I will love forever. Especially if you review.**

**Please review ;)**

**And please tell me about any mistakes I made or ways I could improve the story. After all, I'm writing for the readers, and the more you enjoy the happier I am. **

**~Avai**


	2. Cemetery Drive

Chapter 2: Cemetery Drive

For the first time in three hours, all was silent. There was no screaming, no gunshots, no disgusting sounds of flesh being ripped apart or mutant armies marching.

There was only the simplest sound that could ever be heard and it had an ethereal quality to it. Air pooling into my lungs, only to be pushed out seconds later. All I heard was breathing.

I was alive, along with some others. Some quick, shallow pants right next to my ear told me that the kid made it too.

At least I brought one person out of this hell with me. I didn't allow myself to think of Sticky.

If I did, I would have broken down. That could come later.

I looked up, waving smoke out of my irritated eyes. The two asari women were standing side by side, their hands extended and intense looks of concentration on their faces.

They were the reason we were all alive; those two asari threw up a barrier that kept everyone in our shuttle from getting spaced. The back of the small aircraft was completely torn away, and the barrier was a large makeshift window staring out onto the destruction of the Citadel and the war being fought around it.

That thin mass effect field was keeping space outside and us inside. A small cheer went up from the gathered survivors, about fifteen in total plus the pilot. I heard the krogan say that he was a biotic too, and could switch out holding the barrier up so that it could last longer.

I tuned them out, along with the conversation of the other survivors. The place I landed in the shuttle- the middle of the metal floor- was the only place there was without another person taking it up, so I opted to stay there. I glanced down at the turian in my lap, staring up at me with a teary but inquisitive blue eyes.

"Hey, little guy," I said, shifting him so that he was sitting in my lap. I've helped to take care of a few of the other kids in the ducts for Molly, the older girl who is like an older sister to me and Sticky. I felt like I owed her for doing such a good job taking care of us, so I made sure to always be available if she needed a break from all of the mothering she does.

Well, she **was** like an older sister to Sticky and I. Did she even survive? And Sticky. Oh goodness. Sticky. My eyes teared up at the thought of the both of them and the few others I managed to befriend over the course of my short lifetime in the ducts.

I've never been alone before. I was always with someone, usually Sticky, and when I wasn't with someone else I was only a duct or two away from them.

A small, rough-skinned hand wiped a tear away from my face. I glanced down, surprised. The small turian, even with tears in his own eyes, was wiping away mine. I couldn't help but smile, even if it was small and sad.

"What's your name?" I asked him. His only response was to look at me and cock his head to the side, as if he didn't understand a word I just said. I smiled again and took the translator out of my ear, placing it in his small ear-hole. His probably fell out.

Immediately, most of the conversation in the shuttle turned into chittering, grunting, and melodic voices I could not understand a word of. I was only managing to understand a few of the turian chirps because of Sticky and his insistence in teaching me how to understand the language of his people, despite the fact that I would never be able to say a word of it myself.

My smile dimmed at the reminder of my best friend. He was so annoying when he bugged me about it, but I would give up the rest of my life to have him here, right next to me, teaching me the difference between two things that sounded identical to my human ears.

"What's your name?" I asked again, succeeding in keeping most of the sadness out of my voice. The turian nodded, after understanding my question, and held out the translator for me to take. I placed it in my ear.

"My name's Vitus," he said. I smiled. A good, strong turian name.

The rest of our escape from the burning space city passed by like that. One of us would ask a question while the other had the translator, and we would switch to answer these questions. I learned that Vitus didn't know his family name or what colony they were from, he lived with his grandmother who died on their way to the docks, he was six years old, and that he didn't know of any other family that he could find. He learned that my name was Bug, I was a duct rat, I was eleven years old, and that I didn't have anyone to find either.

Surprisingly, the only other crisis after being hit by the Harvester was when the krogan had to reinforce the barrier in a split second after one of the asari fainted and left the biotic field extremely weak and breakable, but he was fast and pounced right on it. The asari turned out to be okay, just dehydrated, and after a quick admission of stims she was right as rain.

The turian piloting the shuttle was pretty good at avoiding the crossfire. The only hits against what remained of the shields were only glancing and didn't hit the ship directly. Vitus was exhausted from the invasion and was trying to sleep on my lap as I tried my best from moving him around. No one else was speaking, either- the air was as heavy and drawn as the tired faces of the strangers around me.

_Goodnight, dear child, it's time to sleep_

_The stars will watch over you tonight_

_Goodnight, my angel, it's time to rest_

_The stars will still be there when you wake_

I looked up, meeting the eyes of an unfamiliar human woman with black hair and kind eyes. She smiled softly and dropped her gaze to the small turian I held in my lap. I closed my eyes, knowing the song was as much for me as it was for him.

_Should you wake at all tonight_

_Know that you are not alone_

_The stars will watch over you, my dear_

_You are not alone_

* * *

"Please watch your step on your way out of the shuttle. Those of you with injuries, the medbay is right over there. Those of you without injuries, take the elevator to deck three. You will find the mess hall there. Grab something if you're hungary and sit tight until we make it back to Earth," the man, who earlier introduced himself as Staff Lieutenant Mark Berry, told those of us exiting the battered shuttle.

A cheer went up unanimously throughout the shuttle when the pilot managed to communicate with one of the ships in the Alliance Fifth Fleet, the SSV Madrid. They immediately came to our rescue, bringing us into the cargo hold and allowing our three worn biotics to finally let the barrier down. The krogan and two asari, now pretty close friends, immediately headed towards the med bay, if only for a cot to nap on. I surveyed Vitus's various scrapes and bruises and my own, but decided that they only needed a good washing. The bathroom was probably near the mess hall.

I walked with about a quarter of the other refugees towards the elevator across the large hangar, the rest heading off towards the large medical bay that shared space with the cargo hold. It was my first time ever on a ship, so I was staring at everything my eyes could see, Vitus doing the same from his shorter vantage point beside me.

Sticky would have loved this. To be on a military ship, even a human one, was a dream come true for him.

I gripped Vitus's hand tighter at the thought. He sent me a questioning look, one I sent away with an expertly forced smile.

The elevator was slow but got us all to our destination. The soldiers in the mess hall didn't say anything, but followed our trek to sit down with anxious faces. I saw the door to the bathroom off to the side, so I pulled Vitus off to the side. Walking through the restroom door, I heard the reason why so many soldiers were waiting for us in the mess hall.

"Do any of you know Karl Jameson? He's my uncle- lives in the wards. Did he get out okay?"

"My dad, Trent Wilson, runs a store on the Presidium. Any word?"

"My fiance, Drina Aston-"

"The Metters-"

"My brother-"

"My family-"

All of these rapid-fire questions were met with silence. I shook my head in grief, herding Vitus through the door and shutting it behind us.

I wasn't the only one who lost least I saw what happened to Sticky, no matter how horrible. The marines in the mess hall had no idea about their loved ones. At least I knew Sticky was dead.

_You didn't see him die. He could have survived._

I shook the thought from my head, hoisting Vitus onto the edge of the sink. Sticky's arm was bitten off. Even if he survived the Reapers around him, he would have bled to death.

_As long as the possibility is there, there is hope. _

I dampened a paper towel with running water, unable to deny that despite seeing what happened to him I would never truly accept that he was dead. I brought the wet paper towel to the largest of Vitus's cuts, a nasty thing across his knee that I suspected was acquired during his fall on the way to the docks. He winced.

"It's okay, Vitus," I cooed softly. I gave him the translator to wear, since we were on an Alliance vessel and I could understand most of the people on the ship. He chirped a few words I couldn't understand and put on a brave, if watery, turian smile. I smiled back, carefully wiping at everything I could see.

After I was done with Vitus, I cleaned myself up and led us back out into the mess hall. All of the curious soldiers were mostly gone, with only a few sitting down and keeping the others company. I noticed a few other refugees who weren't in the initial group. They probably were done with the infirmary.

We took the two open seats in the furthest table from the bulk of the group at an empty four-person table tucked into a corner.

"_All fleets! The Crucible is armed. Disengage and head to the rendezvous point." _All of us sitting in the mess looked up to the comm in the ceiling, an authoritative voice flowing out from the speakers.

What's the Crucible? I've never heard of it before. Glancing around, I saw the others from the Citadel with similarly confused expressions, but the soldiers around the mess all gained an exited look and started whooping, congratulating and hugging each other.

"_I repeat: Disengage and get the hell out of here!"_

* * *

My home, the enormous space station that was once said to be indestructible, laid at my feet. Miles stretched on, wreckage piled stories high in some parts and barely skimming my ankles at others. The image was exactly like a scene in one of the turian war movies Sticky and I snuck into, a space station scattered among the burned planet beneath.

Only this wasn't a movie. This was all too real.

The smell was just as bad as when I left it, intensified from burning through the atmosphere. Millions of soulless bodies littered the wreck and you could tell from the quality of the air.

I wanted to find Sticky. That's why I volunteered.

As soon as the Madrid docked, the refugees were herded into the city with the least amount of damage. From what I heard, we landed somewhere in Germany.

It just so happened that Germany was where a majority of the Citadel landed. Ergo, the salvage teams. We were to look for any supplies still intact, to use in the camps springing up in the area. Nobody said it out loud, but there was also the consensus to look for any survivors of the explosion.

It wasn't likely, but things happen.

The air was thick and smoky, which wasn't helped by the overcast and stale day. There wasn't any wind to disperse the fog of burnt dust and debris, so the other searchers and I had to make makeshift air filters by pulling our shirts or other assorted fabrics over our noses and mouths.

I pulled my fraying shirt away from my mouth and spat a glob of black spit out, trying to rid my mouth of the taste of the ashes that made their way in there. My omni-tool was out and scanning for any signs of life within a mile radius, an app given to me by someone who happened to have it.

The only red dots on the holographic screen were me and two other salvagers a good distance away. Everyone else was either ahead of me, behind me, or gone in a different direction.

There was a lot of wreckage to comb through, so we all tried to stay spread out.

"Ow! Crap!" I hissed out, collapsing to one knee as I grasped my injured ankle.

Note to self: beware of random pieces of hot metal. They are hot. And can burn you.

I grimaced as I forced myself up again, tugging my hand away from the small amount of medi-gel I had in my pocket. That was for emergencies, and a small burn is no emergency.

No matter how much the burn hurt. I looked down at the throbbing injury and winced- the seared skin was about the size of my palm. It was probably going to scar.

I kept walking, one eye on the scanner and the other looking for bits to bring back to the camp in the tattered backpack I found in the rubble of a fallen apartment building. It was about half full, filled with cans of food that managed not to combust and half-empty containers of grubby medi-gel and shoes and a shirt or two-

My bag has a lot of stuff. With my new limp, it's feeling like a lot more.

I haven't found anything in the last thirty minutes. Well, anything usable, anyway. The refugees have no use for corpses or burned tech or small knick-knacks that might've meant something to someone once upon a time.

"One more hour," I promised out loud to myself. One more hour, and if I don't find anything or anyone, I'd start my trek back to the shuttle that'll take me back to civilization.

It's a rebuilding civilization, but it's better than the broken one that's spread all around me.

One hour seems so much longer when you're wandering about, in pain, looking for things and people that you are likely not to find. At the same time, it flies by in a blur of unchangeable scenery and horrible smells and nothing but despair.

A flash of silver blinded me for a second. Walking through the very metal wreckage of the very metal Citadel, it was a very common occurrence to be flashed by some metal. I looked over tiredly, expecting another tower of bent metal sheets to assault my eyes. The tower of metal sheets were there, but the blinding wasn't.

I furrowed my eyebrows. There was a large shadow across the giant pile of metal, which would prevent light from reflecting off of it. The only patch of sun was a little in front of it, in a smaller piles of scraps. I looked towards it.

It was dog tags. I felt a surge of hope go through me.

Maybe... just maybe, could it be Sticky's? Logically, I knew that there probably plenty of soldiers with dog tags on the Citadel when it fell, but I couldn't help myself. Hope is irrational.

I'm irrational.

I couldn't run, so I limped a bit faster in order to make it to the treasure that caught my eye.

Please say _Sticy_, please say _Sticy_, please say _Sticy_-

_Jane Shepard._

My mouth dropped open as I stared at the tags in my hand, attached to a broken chain. This was Shepard's. As in, the woman I looked up to the most. As in, my hero.

I clenched the tags in a fist, dispelling the hope that it was Sticky but finding a new kind of hope.

If her tags are here, then Shepard should be...

I looked at the crappy scanner in my hands, looking for any sign of life other than myself. At first, all I could see was the small red light that was where I stood. I squinted even harder.

There was a faint orange glow, a few meters to my right. It wasn't the same color or as bright as my dot, but it was something.

Something- someone was alive there.

I looked at the rather tall pile blocking my way. Without thinking, I dropped my bag.

A person is more important than half a bag full of supplies.

I ignored my throbbing ankle as I grasped for places to put my hands and feet. I tugged myself up with my tired muscles, more than once having to let go of a random body part that I managed to locate in the rubble. I wanted to puke, but hours of similar experiences allowed me to keep the little food I had remaining in my stomach.

I pulled myself over the edge of the large pile, a good ten feet off the ground. I was at a plateau that was about as wide as it was tall.

A lot of crap landed here. I looked around, trying to locate the origin of the orange light. Every step forward I took, the closer I got, until the two lights were overlapping.

I dropped to my knees, so used to ignoring the pain shooting up my leg it was almost as if I didn't feel it. I started digging, pulling up random bits and throwing them aside.

I stopped after three or four minutes. I'd only made a shallow hole, but I heard something.

It was shallow breathing, so weak I could hardly hear it. I looked closer to the pile in front of me, trying to discover where it was.

The metal sheet was moving a bit. As if someone was under it.

I grabbed the edges, ignoring the cuts being inflicted on my palms. I used every bit of my strength, and finally it fell backwards and tumbled down the edge of the pile.

I almost stopped breathing.

Half of her head was missing its red hair-it looked like it was burnt off- and her face was so swollen and covered in bruises that her features were nearly indiscernible. Some of her clothing seemed to have melted into her skin, and I could see flashes of metal and bone through open wounds.

Despite all that, she was still breathing.

Commander Shepard was still breathing.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I realize that this chapter is shorter than the last one. I apologize. I really wanted to update today, since not only is it Friday (my designated update-day) but I also will not have a lot of time in the next few days to write. I'm sleeping over at a friend's house tonight, then helping host a 30-person family party at my house with my mother's side of the family (I love them, I do, but they're crazy and obnoxious and should only be taken in 5-person increments. Not the whole lot at once). Then on Sunday I'm cleaning up after the party and entertaining even more family that's coming down from Detroit. **

**Busy weekend ahead! Don't ask about the fact that I had all week to write. It was Christmas and I had presents to play with and laziness to be doing. It was fun.**

**That 'song' (if you can even call it that) is totally made up on the spot. I wanted something melancholy but sweet, and that is what my brain scraped out. Not the best but good enough.**

**Anyway, if you enjoyed reading this, please review! If you didn't, then I'm sorry for wasting your time but it would be very nice to have a review explaining why you didn't like it. **

**Spelling/Grammar boo-boos can be reported to me for fixing. Please and thank you for reading!**

**~Avai**


	3. Waking Up

Chapter 3: Waking Up

"Ow!" I hissed, quickly moving my finger away from the offending object and putting it in my mouth. After the first poke, it only throbbed slightly, but stabbing yourself with a needle is never fun. I glared at the shirt full of holes, wanting all the rips to fix themselves. Sadly, it didn't.

"Miss...Bug?" I looked up, slightly confused by the use of the 'Miss.' I wasn't a 'Miss'. I was 'brat' or 'punk', but never 'Miss.'

A fat lady who seemed to be splitting the seams of her nurse's uniform smiled tiredly at me. The smile seemed plastic and fake. She had a short name on her name tag, but since I couldn't read I didn't know what it was. She was covered in a thin layer of dirt just like me and all the other people in the waiting room.

"Yeah?" I answered, sticking the needle into a fold in the fabric so that I didn't have to hold it. She looked curiously at the shirt before disregarding it and motioning for me to follow her. I jumped down from the chair that left my feet dangling off the floor and took a few big steps to stand next to her, gripping the shirt to my chest.

"Where we going?" I asked, walking through the large hole in the wall that led to a smaller hallway. I looked into a few of the rooms as we passed and winced at what I saw. Of course, there was nothing worse than what I saw a few hours ago, but injuries are injuries and there was no way I'd ever get used to seeing them.

I settled my eyes on the distant wall at the other end of the long hallway, not wanting to see anything more.

"Dr. Garret has a few questions to ask you," she said. I had to think about the name before a wrinkled face popped in my head.

"Oh!" I said, "He's the guy who fixed up Com-" I jumped in fear at the sudden grip on my arm, my heart speeding up. I whipped my head to my left, my eyes wide. The chubby nurse was staring at me with a constipated look on her face.

"What?" I asked loudly, inwardly freaking out about the intensity of her face.

"Don't say her name. The less people that know she's here, the better," I nodded, wanting to get her off of me as fast as possible. Thankfully, it worked, and as soon as she let go of me I scooted away from her.

The nurse resumed walking down the hall, striding quickly despite her size. I was doing a weird half-walk half-jog thing to keep up.

"Why can't anyone know she's here?" I asked, more than a little confused, "She's a hero, she shouldn't be hidden away."

"Too much attention can impede the healing process-" Impede? What does that mean? "-and the patient is in no state to be thrust in front cameras and reporters to recount her adventures."

I nodded in response, although she was in front of me and couldn't see it. I didn't want to seem dumb and ask what she meant, so I just pretended I understood. She stopped abruptly, which caused me to almost run into her.

"This is the most secure room in the hospital, so this is where the patient is being kept. You will answer all of Dr. Garret's questions as truthfully and directly as possible. Not doing so will make it more difficult to treat the patient. Are you ready to go in?"

I nodded, my tummy tingling with nervousness. The nurse brought her hand up to the holographic lock and unlocked it, standing to the side to let me through. I glanced nervously into the room as I walked in, jumping when the metal door slid shut behind me.

It was a small white room with no windows. It was one of the few rooms in the hospital that weren't in some way affected by the fighting that was going on a few days ago.

The room was built around its center, which was taken up by the bed in the middle and the patient within it. Commander Jane Shepard looked better than when I first saw her. All the dried blood that covered her completely wasn't there anymore, although her bruises were just as swollen as they were before. Her half-burnt head of hair was completely shaved off. No more than a few inches of skin were uncovered at any given place on her body, which made her look like a mummy. The most obvious of the bandages covered half her face, which spanned her forehead, the entire left side of her face, and her neck.

I grimaced when I thought of the large cut that was covered by the facial bandages. It was disgusting when I first saw it, as long as my arm and as wide as my fingernail. It ran across her forehead, down her eye, and all the way to her collarbone. I puked twice while using my whole supply of medi-gel on it.

I would have puked a third time, but there was nothing in my stomach by then.

"Thank you for giving us your time, Miss Bug," I started at the voice, looking up to meet another tired smile, this time given to me by the old doctor standing by Commander Shepard's bed and a little more genuine than the nurse's. I nodded in response, still kinda freaked over the use of 'Miss' before my name.

"Why don't you take a seat?" I shrugged before walking the few steps it took to sink into the offered seat by the Commander's bed.

"What'cha want?" I asked, placing the shirt I was carrying on the seat next to me. I couldn't help glancing at the woman on the bed.

"I would like to ask you a few questions, if that's alright," the doctor said, leaning back against the hospital bed. I nodded, urging him on.

"How did you find the Commander?" he asked.

"Erm, I was looking around the Citadel for supplies. After a few hours, I found her dog tags," I said, fishing out the dog tags from my pocket and showing them to the older man, "I thought that maybe she's be close by and I was right. Wasn't expecting her to be, well..." I trailed off, knowing that Dr. Garret probably understood where I was going.

"Okay. Now, I would like to ask you about..."

* * *

"Wha...What are you doing?" a faint voice flowed through my ears. I didn't look up from my work on the shirt. I was really into it, almost done with the last hole. Soon, Vitus could wear it again and stop swimming in the large one we found at the children's shelter.

"Sewing up some holes for a little buddy of mine," I answered. It took a few second for me to realize what was strange about the exchange. The voice was abnormally soft, scratchy and unrecognizable. I didn't hear anyone walk through the doors. I made the connection in my head.

I looked up as fast as possible, only to meet the slightly unfocused and confused green eye of the woman laying in the bed less than a foot away from me.

"Commander Shepard! You're awake!" I nearly shouted in both surprise and excitement. Dr. Garret had predicted that she wouldn't be up for another week at least. The Commander winced at my loud tone of voice.

"Would you like some water?" I offered, making sure it was quieter. She nodded slowly, and winced at the small motion. She was probably still in a lot of pain, despite all the painkillers I knew Dr. Garret gave to her.

I grabbed the small cup of water from the stand next to her bed and carefully poured it into her mouth, only spilling a bit. I dabbed at the small splashes with my sleeve, embarrassed.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice less scratchy and more like what I heard in the Tower back on the Citadel with Sticky.

"I'm Bug. I'm the one who... I found you," I said, more than a little awed that I was actually speaking to Commander Shepard. It was one thing to find her and be in the same room as her as she was completely out, but it was a totally different experience to actually talk to her.

It seemed to take her a few seconds to process what I said, but when she realized what I met she gave me what I suspected was the biggest smile she could muster.

It wasn't very large, but I could see it was genuine.

"So, you're the reason I wasn't able to get into the bar? I should thank you for that," she chuckled softly, coughing a bit at the exertion. I moved forward with the water again, but she waved me off.

"Thank you, Bug. From what you told me think I can assume you saved my life," she said.

"You would assume correctly," a deep voice called out from behind me. I jumped, but the Commander calmly shifted her gaze to the man behind me.

"And you are..?" she asked, trailing off to let him fill in.

"Dr. Garret, your attending physician. As I was saying, it was little Bug here who found you in the wreckage of the Citadel. Without her quick application of medi-gel to the worst of your injuries, there is no doubt in my mind that you would have lost your life from blood loss," he explained. I blushed at the attention, staring at the ground to avoid the two stares.

"The worst of my injuries?" she said, looking down to the bandages and bruises on her body as if it was the first time she noticed them.

"As you may have noticed, you can't see out of your left eye. That is the result of a large laceration that runs from your forehead to your collarbone. That laceration was bleeding heavily before Bug managed to stop most of it. Even if you survived the blood loss, there was a good chance of gaining an infection if the wound went unsealed," Dr. Garret explained from the place he took on the other side of the bed. He started to look over her.

"While not in the peak of health, Commander, I must say that you are very resilient. You were not expected to wake up for another week," he commented, amusement showing through his voice.

I wondered what 'resilient' meant.

"I guess I'm just one tough son of a bitch," she murmured to herself. She chuckled quietly as I sent her a confused look. I saw Dr. Garret raising an eyebrow out of the corner of my eye.

"Inside joke," she explained. I could've sworn I saw some tears gathering in her eyes, but within a few seconds they were gone.

* * *

It's been a few weeks since Vitus and I settled into a schedule. We would sleep in an area within the tent city that was set aside for orphaned children. I was older than a lot of the other kids, and I took on the job making breakfast breakfast for everyone with a few others my age or older.

After taking the 'morning shift' of watching the kids, I would leave Vitus there with instructions not to leave and head to the hospital for a few hours of visitation with Jane. I was the only one outside of the doctors and nurses who knew that she was even alive and keeping her from feeling too alone had become a responsibility of mine. We would browse the extranet, play cards, or just talk to each other.

After the first couple of days, Jane ordered me to stop calling her Commander Shepard. She said it was too much of a mouthful, but I could see that she was getting as attached to me as I was to her and Vitus.

It was noon, my usual time, and we were playing a card game that Jane taught me called Go Fish. She laughed when she told me that it saved her many hours of boredom on the ships that she lived on growing up. After that, thought, she started to stare at me with a curious look on her face.

"So, what's the deal with your name? 'Bug' is quite the... unusual given name," Jane asked, her good green eye peering at me from behind the cards she held in her hand. I looked up from my own, fishing out the two eights I had and handing it to her. I was surprised at the quick change in topic.

"Well, it's not really a given name. I mean, it was given to me, but not by my parents or anything. I was a duct rat, back on the Citadel. My best friend Sticky is the one- er, he was the one who named me. He always teased me about how big my eyes were, said that they were like a bug's. And, well, that name just stuck. Do you have any... queens?" I asked, turning my attention back to the cards in my hands.

"Go fish," I sighed loudly and took a card from the pile, "You were on the Citadel?" she asked. She sounded surprised. I shifted uncomfortably in my place at the foot of her bed at the question.

"Well, yeah, I was. It was home. My home," I said, glancing towards her cards to give her the hint of continuing the game. Either she didn't see it or she saw it and ignored it.

"You must have been there during the invasion. How'd you get off?" Jane asked, putting her cards to the side and settling back against her pillows. I put my own cards down and shifted my gaze to the white wall, avoiding her eyes.

"Me, Sticky, and my little buddy Vitus ran with a group of people to the docks. Me and Vitus managed to make it on. It was hit by a harvester, but some biotics managed to keep the shuttle together until we got picked up by the Alliance. We got dropped off here and the rest you already know," I said, wanting to finish the subject as quickly as possible. Jane already knew a lot about Vitus, but I wasn't ready to talk about Sticky quite yet.

I could pretty much feel her pity-filled stare digging into my skull and I didn't need it.

"I think it's about time I get back. Vitus might be wondering where I am," I announced, jumping off the bed. I made sure to keep my face from facing her, since I could feel that my cheeks were blotchy and my eyes were wet. Jane didn't say a word as I stomped towards the door. The door slid open and a small form fell on the floor in front of me. I stared down in surprise as Jane laughed from behind me.

"I believe you're right. I also think he found you," she said, obviously finding the situation quite funny. The pale blue form on the floor looked up fearfully.

"Sorry, Bug! I know you told me to stay with the other kids but they don't really like me and I wanted to know what you were doing and I'm sorry for following you-" I sighed and sank to the floor with a smile, kneeling to help the kid up.

"It's okay, Vitus. You're not in trouble. Let's just head back now, okay?" I said reassuringly, rubbing his head in an imitation of rustling someone's hair. He nodded, but sent a look over my shoulder to the older woman in the bed.

"Hold up, now, Bug. You're not just going to let him leave without introducing himself, are you?" she asked. That was her do-as-I-say-now voice, as I've come to know it. She usually uses it on Bea, the fat nurse with a bad personality. I knew not to fight with that voice.

"Alright, little buddy, it's time to meet someone special," I said, scooping the turian off the floor. He tensed up slightly, but I could tell from his blue eyes that it was more from nervousness than from fear. I brought him to the side of the bed and set him on it so that he was sitting right in front of Jane.

"Hi, Vitus. Bug's told me a lot about you. I'm Jane, Jane Shepard. It's very nice to meet you," the soldier said softly, offering Vitus a hand to shake.

"Nice to meet you too, ma'am," he replied, sending the hand a questioning glance. Shepard laughed, probably remembering that shaking hands in greeting was a human gesture and not widely known by aliens.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the kid. Ma'am? I've never heard him say that before.

"You know, Vitus, you have the most beautiful blue eyes. Reminds me of someone, actually. His name's Garrus..."

* * *

I ran eagerly down the hallway, not bothering to slow down even as I almost ran into people and tripped over myself. There was no time to wait.

"Jane!" I yelled, rushing into her room, "Get your disguise on! We're going for a walk," I announced to the room's surprised occupants. Jane laughed, a wide-eyed Vitus staring at me from her lap. Her injuries were better, most of the swelling gone and most bandages aside from her facial ones taken off. Her hair grew in even more, the blazing red just reaching the top of her ears.

"Well, that's rather abrupt, don't you think? I suppose we could go for a walk. What do you think, Vitus?" her green eye sparkled as she looked at the turian boy. Jane was drawn to the kid and seemed to have a special bond with him. I was a little jealous, but I knew that Jane liked me just as much as she liked him.

Vitus nodded his assent and I grabbed the Weigh-Less Wheelchair (a wheelchair that made it easier to push people) in the corner, bringing it to the side of the bed. Vitus gave Jane her oversized sunglasses as I grabbed the fabric we use to wrap around her head. The result was a rather unrecognizable and stylish woman, recovering from a horrible wound like many others after the war. Jane swung herself into the wheelchair, dismissing my attempts to help. She placed Vitus on her lap after covering it with a blanket and I grabbed a hold of the handle bars. Soon, we were gliding down the hallways, making way to the now functional elevators that would take us down to floor level.

"Faster, faster, faster..." I muttered, wanting the freakishly slow elevators to finish and open up to the floor level. Jane laughed, craning her half-hidden face up to meet mine.

"What's the rush, girlie?" I looked back at her, tugging on a strand of my hair in excitement. I winced as I accidentally pulled one out and shook the blond strand off my hand.

"It's a surprise. You'll love it, I promise!" I said, trying my best not to give it away. I just heard about it and I knew I had to act fast for the best reaction. Finally, the doors opened and I pushed Jane and Vitus straight out of the elevator and into the street after crossing through the lobby.

The spaceport was really close.

Staying calm was a struggle, as all I wanted to do was push Jane ahead at full speed, but I knew that Jane enjoyed the limited time she had outside. She always says that life's not worth anything if you can't stop to smell the roses.

Little did she know that there was a big, super smelly rose just up ahead.

It took a few minutes of walking to catch sight of the crowded spaceport, the tall structures meant to dock spaceships towering over nearly everything else in the city. She sent me a questioning glance, but I only stared ahead with an overly large smile taking over most of my face.

"Bug-" I'd never know what the rest of that sentence would've been, for at that exact moment a ship appeared from thin air, disengaging its FTL.

That ship bore the proud name of the Normandy.

Jane lifted a hand to her mouth, speechless. I didn't even have to be asked- I started bolting towards the part of the port where crew members would come down. When we got into the thick of things, with people and reporters crowding around the elevator door, I used the wheelchair as a battering ram and managed to find the perfect spot at the front of the crowd. We got plenty of evil looks, but I ignored them, instead focused on the hopeful but apprehensive look on Jane's face.

The first elevator was coming down, and the crowd was silent. Which of the now famous crew would be the first to return to Earth after the last battle? Nobody around us noticed as Jane removed her sunglasses and took off her head covering. After all, she wasn't that recognizable even without a disguise.

Well, wasn't that recognizable to anyone other than the tall, light gray turian stepping through the elevator doors. I took Vitus off of Jane's lap, awkwardly trying to avoid being caught between the stare they were exchanging. Everyone else- the other crew members in the elevator, the press, the rest of the crowd- were excluded from the world that seemed to share between the two.

Garrus Vakarian took a step towards Jane Shepard as she wheeled forward to meet him. They met somewhere in the middle, and Garrus carefully placed his forehead against her bandaged one.

He murmured something softly to her, and she laughed in response. She took her forehead off of his and looked back to where I was standing, bracing Vitus on my hip. The crowd had finally understood that the woman in the wheelchair happened to be THE Commander Shepard and was loudly yelling about the fact. Despite this, I managed to hear Jane's next words with near-perfect clarity.

"Hey, Garrus., how about having some kids?"

Wait.

What?

* * *

**A/N: Gahh, this was a day late. Sorry guys, school just started up again and I was drowning in the horribleness of it (otherwise known as homework and projects.) I was dead set on finishing this yesterday, but I totally forgot that I had to go to a friend house for a million hours and work on said project. Seeing as I couldn't do it yesterday, I was going to upload it earlier today, but I had an oral surgery appointment along with my sister in which we would discuss the removal of our wisdom teeth. An hour and a half wait for ten minutes of talking time, the talk including everything that we have already heard from our dentist. Yeah. Fun.**

**Anyway, I'm up to 499 views, 15 alerts, 5 reviews, and 1 favorite. I am immensely proud of this response and have to thank everyone who has contributed to any of these numbers. I must especially thank lumivalko for providing some very helpful constructive criticism. **

**I LOVE YOU ALL!**

**~Avai**

**Extra A/N: As some may have noticed I changed the titles of each of the chapters to song titles. I just think the title fits the main part of the chapter, and not necessarily the song itself. Just incase you're curious :)**


	4. I Miss You

Chapter 4

"Are you nervous, honey?" Mom said from her place beside the hairstylist. I glanced at her in the mirror, trying not to move my head too much. If I did, there was a high chance that I would be burned by the very hot curling iron held by the lady in control of the fate of my hair.

"Sort of. I mean, I know that a lot of people aren't going to like what I want to do, but I've accepted that. It's pretty easy to talk in front of millions of people if you don't really care about what they think," I replied. Mom chuckled at my assessment, nodding her assent.

"You are definitely my child," she said. I beamed back.

Looking in the mirror, it was obvious that we weren't related. Mom's stick-straight hair is shoulder length and still very red despite a good amount of gray hairs peeking through. Her eyes have always reminded me of a cat's; thin, sharp, and an illuminating shade of green. If her left eye wasn't slightly brighter than the other, her mechanical eyeball would be completely unnoticeable. Mom has strong, square face that has only the remnants of the giant gash that almost killed her. The scar was thinner than the cut had been, but no surgery was good enough to completely erase the large split that was there.

On the contrary, my strawberry blonde hair reached my mid back and was usually wavy, despite the current heat-induced curly state it was in. My eyes were a light shade of brown and just as large as they were when I was a child; it was as if I was in a permanent state of surprise. My face was soft and round, marred only by a few break outs that come from being a teenager. The only similarity Mom and I shared wasn't even genetic; we both had the blue Vakarian clan markings painted on our face. She caught my eye in the mirror and gave me a wink.

"And we are done! What do you think, darling?" Marissa said, her high-pitched voice loud and shrill. I had to hold back a wince; her voice could shatter glass. I could hear Mom chuckle from behind me. I glanced back, shooting her a quick glare before turning back around and looking at the product of the last miserable hour.

I had to smile at the result in the mirror. Marissa might be a chatterbox, but there was a reason Mom and I go here to get our hair done. My hair hung in loose curls, framing my face and falling down my back perfectly.

"I love it! Thank you so much, Marissa! I wish we could hire you to be our personal hairstylist," I said, smiling at her. She beamed back, obviously proud at her handiwork.

"Soon enough, I'm going to be the only one in our family needing her services, and you know I don't need to get my hair done every day. There's no need for that," Mom said, ever rational. I rolled my eyes at her exaggeratedly, standing up and striding to stand next to her. Marissa glanced at us curiously.

"Emma, are you going somewhere or something?" I opened my mouth to respond but Mom placed a heavy hand on my shoulder, effectively silencing me.

"Or something," she said, facing me away from the bubbly hairstylist and pushing me to the front of the small but sophisticated salon. I sent her an annoyed glance.

"I could've at least told her. We've known Marissa forever- she wouldn't tell anyone," I said with a sigh. I was getting annoyed at the fact that I couldn't even tell my hairdresser the exciting news.

"I love Marissa, but half the time she's talking she has no idea what's flying out of her mouth. Besides, even if she didn't mention anything for the rest of the day someone could've overheard anyway and leaked the news before your press conference tonight."

Right. My conference. As in, the first time the entire galaxy will get a look at what Emma B. Shepard-Vakarian looks like after almost four years of eluding cameras and trusting all the right people to hang out with. Nobody outside the family and close friends even know what species my brother and I are.

The skycar was pretty much humping the edge of the store. There wasn't even a foot between the tinted glass windows and the steel vehicle. The London sky was still dark, which meant that there was a lower possibility of impromptu paparazzi trying to get a snapshot of Commander Shepard and her unknown daughter. Despite the extra precautions, Mom still herded me through the open doors as quickly as possible. She walked around and sat in the driver's seat after making sure I was securely in the passenger side and, without missing a beat, took off smoothly and headed towards home.

"Stop playing with your hair. You're going to mess it up," Mom said, her voice filling up the small space of the transport. Surprised, I tugged my fingers free of my hair. I didn't even notice I was doing it.

I fidgeted around a bit, fighting the urge to play with my hair again. Finally, after a few minutes, I shoved my hands under my thighs, effectively sitting on them and stopping the need to twiddle. Mom sent me a quick questioning look, a small smile tugging at her lips. I simply shrugged back and looked out the window, taking solace in the silence.

My family isn't a loud one. Back when I was still Bug, I would always imagine being a part of a ginormous family that interrupted one another and shouted to be heard. Those families, the ones like the movies and the stories I read on the extranet, seemed to be bursting with love. Now, with Mom and Dad and Vitus, I realize that noise level doesn't matter. We can all sit in the same room, say nothing, and still enjoy one another's company.

It's ironic, actually. Sticky always wanted a family like the one I was lucky enough to find. When I would talk about a million siblings and animals and never-ending sounds with stars in my eyes, he would mumble something out about a small, quiet family that he could hold intelligent conversations about anything with.

I opened up my omni-tool and went to the small picture selection I always kept on me. There was one slightly blurry picture, hidden far behind all the more recent ones. I smiled sadly when I opened it up. Two dirty yet deliriously silly children grinned back at me. The human girl was pale, her large eyes shining from a gaunt face and a large grin splitting her face in half. The turian boy, obviously a bit older and slouching a bit to equal the girl's height, was staring directly into the camera. His forest green eyes were reflecting a bit of the flash that was accidentally on. It was the only picture I still had of him.

I missed him so much. He's my motivation for everything, pretty much. Especially for what I'm going to reveal at the press conference tonight.

"He'd be proud of you, you know," Mom said softly, sending me an understanding look. Of course, my parents know everything about Sticky. I spilled my guts out to them when I was twelve and hit with a giant wave of depression, after it finally sank in that my best friend wasn't ever coming back. They had no trouble understanding what I was going through, and told me about their experiences losing people and how they dealt with it. The day after that was when I started to call them Mom and Dad instead of Jane and Garrus.

"I know," I replied.

* * *

"DAD! I NEED SOME FACE PAINT, PRONTO!" I yelled down the hallway, tugging my nice blouse over my head while trying not to mess up the hairstyle I knew I wouldn't be able to replicate.

Before I knew it, a long, three-fingered hand emerged from the crack that opened in the master bedroom door and tossed a small jar my way. I brought my own hand up, catching the glass easily before it made a dent in my head.

"THANKS!" I shouted, turning back into my room and shutting the door behind me.

Now where were my pants?

After fruitlessly looking for the nice black slacks I wanted to wear, I groaned. I had to leave in five minutes and I didn't have any time for a lost cause. It looked like I was wearing my skirt. It wasn't like I didn't like my skirt, skirts are very nice, but it was critical that I looked as professional as possible today.

I pulled the respectable knee-length pencil skirt out of my closet and jumped into it, rushing into the bathroom connected to my room. I opened the jar of paint, grabbed my brush, and retraced the fading lines that I could put on with my eyes closed. Then, I patted on a small amount of foundation on my patches of unpainted skin. I stepped back from the mirror, surveying myself. I looked good, and my blue blouse was the exact shade of Vakarian blue. There was something missing, though...

Ah! The blue and feathered hair clip I liked was right by my toothbrush. I knew I was playing up the blue with my outfit, but I wanted to seem as turian as possible tonight and that meant lots of clan color. I tugged a small amount of hair back from my face and put the clip in. Done.

I grabbed my black pumps on the way out of my room, holding them both with one hand as I ran down the stairs of our small but comfortable Earth home. The house on Palaven was a bit bigger, although one story compared to two, and the apartment on the Citadel was primarily for Mom and Dad's work.

"READY TO GO!" I shouted up the stairs, shoving my shoes on my feet as I went to grab a quick snack from the fridge. Vitus was sitting on one of the stools in front of the counter dressed in his best suit, Aunt Solana sitting next to him in a pretty red dress that emphasized her new Pratis clan markings. Uncle Quade was gone, so he probably left already to reserve seats for him, Aunt Solana, and Vitus.

"Excited, Emma?" Aunt Solana asked, a wide smile on her face. I smiled back, albeit a bit nervously.

"Yeah," I said, ducking into the fridge to grab an apple from the levo side, "The nerves are just starting to kick in for me, though."

It wasn't as bad as it could've been, but I was definitely anticipating going on stage. I just didn't want to screw up somehow.

"Alright, people, let's get moving!" Dad's authoritative voice flowed in from the hallway. I rushed out, the picture of tenseness. His tall form was standing by the door, but when he saw me he strode forward and placed a long arm around my shoulders. Of course, he was 6'1 while I was 5'6, so it was more like he put his forearm around my shoulders. His elbow was even with my shoulders.

"You don't have to do this, Em," he reassured me. That was only the twentieth time I've heard him say that in the past three days. Despite his words, I could tell he was immensely proud about what I've decided to do. I smiled back at him.

"I know, Dad. I want to," I said. He squeezed my shoulder in response.

Mom was already in the skycar, her dress blues impeccable. The car was easily big enough to fit all five of us, so before I knew it we were off to the Conduit to be beamed up to the newly built Citadel.

* * *

My hands were shaking slightly from my spot right in front of the stage that was put up in the middle of the Presidium. I was sitting beside Tali on the chair closest to the stairs, the rest of Mom and Dad's old crew filling up the rest of the row beside her. So far, I was still an unknown. From what I could tell, no one in the immediate area knew who I was. That was about to change very soon.

Despite the nerves, I felt a strange excitement bolt through my veins. Everyone thought that this conference was being held to finally introduce me to the public. While that was a small part, it was not the only reason.

I was going to knock everyone's pants off. Hopefully just figuratively.

"As you all may know, my daughter is here tonight. Garrus and I adopted her and her brother immediately after the war, and she's been an amazing part of our family. She's been through so much in her short life but she's overcome it with no small amount of work. Everyone, please welcome my daughter Emma Shepard-Vakarian," Mom said, her words echoing in the microphone at the podium she stood at. Guess that was my cue.

I stood up from my seat. The whole place was silent except for a few excited murmurs in the crowd. I strode up the stairs, making sure my posture was perfect and that I wouldn't trip over my own feet. I exhanged smiles with Dad, who was sitting beside an empty seat at the back of the stage. The other chairs were filled with a few politicians, both turian and human. I walked up to the podium and hugged my mother, who then moved to the empty seat by Dad.

Suddenly, I was alone in front of hundreds of people, thousands more probably watching on a news vid. So, I smiled at the crowd whose many different faces were blurred out by the bright lights shining in my eyes

"Hello, galaxy. My name is Emma B. Shepard-Vakarian, and it's very nice to meet you," I said. A surprised laugh flowed through the audience and the silence was broken. Questions were coming at me on top of one another, some of them being said so fast I couldn't understand what they were saying.

"Why were you adopted by Commander Shepard?"

"How old are you?"

"What were some of the hardships you've encountered in your life?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"What music do you like?"

There were other questions, but those were the ones that I caught. I lifted my hand up, motioning for the crowd to quiet down.

"Woah, woah, slow down please! In case you haven't noticed, I'm new at this whole conference thing," I paused for a second, letting that sink into the crowd.

"Well, my favorite bands have to be No Words and Falling Up; I guess you could say I like new age rock. My favorite color is blue, if it wasn't obvious by what I was wearing. I'm two weeks away from my fifteenth birthday, and up until a few years ago I was a homeless duct rat. There's a lot of hardship in that alone. Erm, and I guess you could say my parents adopted me because I wouldn't stop bothering Mom in her recovery. I was the one who found her. Now I am a proud dual citizen of both the Turian Heirarchy and the Systems Alliance."

* * *

The questions exploded even more after that.

The crowd was loving me. In the half hour question and answer session, I got them to warm up to me. I would answer everything I could, discreetly holding certain things back if I wasn't too comfortable but never full-out rejecting a question. Now was just as good a time as ever.

"Everyone, everyone, I have an announcement to make. While it has been great to finally come out of hiding, that was not the main reason I had this conference called," I paused, taking in a deep breath. Here we go.

"On my fifteenth birthday, I will be enlisting in the turian military and sent to boot camp as all other Heirarchy citizens must."

The entire audience exploded in whispers, shocked gasps, cries of outrage, looks of disbelief, pretty much every reaction there is under the sun. The questions started to come again, but I held up my hand. The sound only died down a little at the motion, but I managed to be heard above the commotion.

"I will be taking no more questions. Thank you all for your time," I said, and strode away from the podium. I met up with my parents, who were wearing proud smiles on their faces, and shook hands with all the politicians that we talked to about arranging my stint in the turian military. I was very thankful towards them and made sure they knew; without their help I wouldn't be able to do it.

Now, I could fulfill Sticky's dream for him while I also prove that a human can be a helpful member of the Heirarchy. Two birds with one stone. Vitus and I are the first two people with citizenship in both the turian and human government, and I always thought it wasn't very fair for me to be given different expectations than my little brother. He would be forced to join the miitary while I wasn't going to be. That's actually the thought that prompted the whole thing in the first place.

"Ready to go?" Dad asked me, squishing me between him and Mom so that I wouldn't be assaulted by the multiple reporters vying for attention.

"Yep," I said, ready to go to the restaurant that they had reserved just for tonight. Everyone was coming, from Aunt Solana to James and everyone in between. Only Ashley was going to be missing, since she was on a Spectre mission, but she promised me that she'd take me out for a day with just the two of us when we got back.

"...ug!" I heard a faint sound come from the crowd behind me. It was almost blocked out by the noise, but I just heard the end of it. I stopped, which caused my parents to send me quizzical looks.

"BUG!" I froze at the name. Only three people knew it. Two of them were beside me and I saw Vitus leave with Aunt Solana and Uncle Quade.

Only one other person knew that name, but he was dead.

I turned around slowly, barely noticing the sharp and suspicious looks my parents were sending into the crowd. I wasn't the only one who heard it.

A shiny turian arm caught my attention. The silver limb was waving in the air, so I looked a bit down from where the arm was.

I caught sight of a pair of perfectly forest green eyes.

"STICKY!"

**A/N: If you guys say you were expecting that then I will be sorely disappointed. Although it's probably something I would expect if this was someone else's story. That last bit was pretty much the inspiration for Hero. I saw that scene in my head and was like, woah, I should write a story for this. So I did. And I'm sorry for dragging on her 'announcement' for the whole chapter, but I wanted to build suspense for one thing and then hit you with an extra surprise. **

**I updated on time! You have no idea how proud I am of that. School sucks but it is mandatory and I must go, and the resulting work takes up sooo muchhh timeee. Enough complaining, though. I got my writing done, and that's the most important thing. **

**Anyway, I'm probably not going to drag this on much longer. I think it has no more than three chapters left in it. I did say that it was going to be pretty short. **

**Oh, and I had some moderate writers block for this. Want to know the reason? My mind keeps telling me what a good idea it is to write an SI like so many other writers on this site. I love the idea but it's so **_**overdone. **_**I've read a few really good ones (which is where my inspiration came from) but I've also read a lot more -meh- or absolutely horrible ones. I haven't seen some of the ideas I have for 'mine' (if you could even say that, since it's just random plot lines in my head right now) in other stories but, well. You know. SI. I'm also terrified that it's going to come out horrible (which it most likely will). So I will just have to keep fighting my mind on the issue. **

**Okay, this A/N is getting long. Time to shut up. You know the drill. Review if you like it, review if you don't. Please and thank you.**

**~Avai**

**P.S- OVER 1,000 VIEWS! These are no small potatoes! Some of you might not even sneeze at this number, but I'm all like OMIGOODNESS THIS IS AMAZING I NEED TO BAKE VIRTUAL COOKIES! Thank you all so much.**


	5. One Step Closer

"I can't believe you're alive," the almost unrecognizable turian said after five minutes of nearly awkward silence. My voice was totally failing me, and for good reason. My parents and the rest of my entourage (read: every member of the former Normandy crew) ushered the two of us away from the crowd and into the skycar after quickly disarming and background-checking the young turian claiming to be Sticky.

Dad was driving while Mom was in the passenger seat. They were completely silent, but I knew they were listening to every word of the conversation we were having despite the fact that, so far, it was only a sentence.

I opened my mouth to reply, but only ended up looking like a fish. I couldn't stop my eyes from scanning over the face I used to know so well- only, it was older, and _with face paint._ I couldn't recognize the markings off the top of my head, but the paint was white and consisted of three thick lines on his forehead- one down the middle to the top of his nose while the other two branched off over his eyes.

It suited him. He wore those markings well.

"I can't believe... I can't believe _you're _alive," I managed to stutter out softly, switching my gaze from his face to his cybernetic left arm.

"I watched your shuttle blow up," Sticky replied in a voice as soft as mine, staring at me just as intently as I was him.

"I watched a cannibal bite your arm off," I replied. Our eyes met, and we had an intense staring contest. It was almost like old times, trying to get the other to admit that they were one-upped.

I couldn't help it. I cracked a smile, which widened when I saw him do the same. Then I burst out laughing.

"Sticky. Oh, wow. Sticky, Sticky, Sticky, Sticky," I got out between laughs. Those laughs turned to quick, sharp sobs, and before I knew it I was crying. Mom sent a concerned look back, but it wasn't needed. I was wrapped in a pair of strong turian arms, Sticky humming a comforting noise with his subvocals.

"Terin, actually. Terin Caetus."

"Emma. Emma Shepard-Vakarian."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that, Bug."

"Same here, Sticky. Same here."

"So you managed to get picked up by an Alliance ship with a half demolished shuttle, go to Earth with a small turian you didn't know, and scavenge for supplies, finding _Commander Shepard_ by complete accident? After which she and _Garrus Vakarian _adopted you and Titus?"

I nodded my head, slightly breathless from the long story I rushed out in the small corner booth of the restaurant we were at. Everyone was mingling and partying (Grunt and Jack were dancing on the hopefully reinforced metal tables) but giving our corner a wide berth, mindful of the reunion that was occurring.

Sticky shook his head, disbelieving. "Wow. I always known you were tough, but this takes the cake."

"What about you?" I asked, dying to know how he happened to survive, "What happened after you got swarmed by reapers?"

He winced, rubbing his metal left arm with his right one, "There was a turian general on the Citadel who was getting an emergency evac. They just happened to choose the dock I was stranded at as the LZ. Right after the shuttle blew up, he and his two guards came in with guns blazing and managed to wipe them all out. I was delirious from the blood loss, so I only remember a blur. Caro—the general—slathered my stump in medi-gel and dragged me onto his ship with his guards."

It didn't escape my notice that Sticky- Terin, I mean- is on first name basis with a general, but I waved him on to continue.

"When I came to in the medbay, Caro was right there. He asked me some questions. I told him everything—how we grew up as duct rats, how we survived the geth and Cerberus, our attempted escape from the reapers. He let me cry when I realized—well, when I thought you were dead even after I tried to sacrifice myself to let you get away. Other than my little crying episode, though, I was so nervous and stiff," he chuckled a bit to himself, "I was never more relieved to have memorized the turian military regulations. Every other word I said was 'sir' and when I first woke up I shot off a perfect salute, even as drugged up as I was.

"I was so amazed when he told me he was impressed. Said I survived more deadly situations than a few turian soldiers double my age, and gave a better salute, too. He said I was too good of a turian to not join the Hierarchy. I told him that I'd love too, but I was barefaced and had no clan or official records. I didn't exist, and you can't join the military when you're a ghost," he took a breath, but I interrupted him before he got anything else out.

"Let me guess. His full title is General Cato Caetus," I smiled at him. I recognized the look in his eye when he talked about the general. It was the same one I got when I looked in the mirror and thanked the Spirits for sending me Mom and Dad. Sometimes I'm still amazed about my change of fortune.

Sti—Terin looked at me with a smile.

"That's exactly it. He told me that it wasn't a problem, that he could get me into the Hierarchy with a snap of his fingers. The only catch was that I had to join his clan. I nearly started crying again."

I laughed at the absurd situation. We both grew up alone, depending on each other and the other duct rats, but as soon as we weren't duct rats anymore we were snatched up by some very influential people. We were both living our childhood dreams. And now, it's even better. We found each other again. Sti-Terin-screw it, his name is Sticky. Sticky chuckled right along with me.

"Tell me about your family," I said, taking one of his larger hands with both of mine. He smiled, placing his metal hand on the pile of limbs.

"It's a big one. I have two older siblings—a brother and sister—from Cato's first marriage. His wife died, and he met my 'mom', an asari named Zara. She already had a daughter from an earlier relationship who's a year younger than me, and then Cato and Zara had two asari girls, twin six year olds. It's a full house, especially at family reunions. I have a lot of aunts and uncles who each have at least two children. When we're all in the same place at the same time, it's chaos. And I love it," he said, absolutely glowing from talking about his family. He really does love them.

"I'm not sad to say I don't know how that feels. It's only Titus and me with Dad and Mom. I have one aunt and a new uncle. Only one human grandmother who's busy cleaning up the Terminus systems despite Mom's wish that she retires. My human grandfather died when Mom was a kid. My turian grandmother died of health complications a little before the Reaper invasions started, and my turian grandfather was killed on Earth during the Final Battle. It's quiet in my house, even when we're all in the same room, and it's great," I smiled at him, "And now I have you again. We have each other."

Sticky shot me the turian equivalent of an eyebrow raise, accompanied by the smirk he always used to wear when he found something amusing. I shot him my own questioning look back.

"Well, what do you know? I never knew you were a closet romantic," he said. I sat there, processing the words, before the blood rushed to my face in embarrassment. I crumpled up one of my napkins and threw it at him, but missed my mark when he batted it back to me.

"I didn't mean it like _that,_ Sticky, geez!" I said exasperatedly, trying and failing to regain control of the blood rush to my face. I covered my cheeks with my hands as a last resort. I hated being so easily embarrassed. By this point, Sticky was roaring with laughter, definitely amused by the fact that he could unsettle me like that.

Just like old times.

A hand landed on my shoulder. I jumped, but relaxed when I looked and only saw Mom, Dad a few paces behind her. I smiled at them, sending a questioning look towards Sticky when his laughter abruptly cut off. He looked a little scared, which made me raise an eyebrow at him for a change. I decided to ignore it, turning back around.

"Hey kiddo, why don't you go and talk to Samara? You haven't seen her in awhile and I heard from a very trusted source she has something special to give you from her last visit to Thessia. Your father and I will keep Sticky here company," Mom said, smiling softly. I opened my mouth to protest, wanting to spend more time with Sticky, but the soft smile turned into her infamous 'I-am-Commander-Shepard-and-you-will-do-as-I-say' look. I knew better than to challenge it.

I sent an apologetic smile towards Sticky, one that promised more catching up later, but I needed to leave before my exhausting two hour sparring session was extended to four hours.

The children of the first human Spectre and the next in line to the turian Hierarchy aren't punished by taking away privileges or being exiled to their room. No, we're forced to have even more combat training than what we already had to do. While it is useful, especially since it gives me an edge when I join the turian military, it makes your bruises have bruises and is very, very tiring. Therefore, I left the one place I could honestly spend the rest of the night.

I stood up from my seat, stepping to the side to let Mom take my place. I sent one last smile Sticky's way before turning about and heading towards the calm asari standing by the buffet. Dad ruffled my hair with his talons when I passed him, giving me a mischevious smile when I jokingly glared at him. Samara smiled at me serenely and I returned it right back, stepping into her opened arms for a hug.

"My congradulations on your acceptance to the turian military, young one. It takes a strong mind to take an uncharted path in life. I have no doubt yours is among the strongest," she said. I beamed at the compliment. Samara was a woman of truth and she never said anything that she didn't believe in. Being praised by her was an honor.

"Mom said you had something for me?" I asked her, tilting my head to the side.

"Ah, yes, I do. Just follow me..."

"A Mantis! You got me a Mantis! This is amazing!" I said excitedly, nearly shouting from happiness. Samara, James, and Liara all smiled at me, them being the closest people to where I opened the gift.

"Not just any Mantis, young one. This Mantis has undergone modifications by the asari government, with permission from Devlon industries. It is now a lighter variation of the Widow, with a small difference in damage potential. Still, I believed it would be a worthwhile gift for when you leave for boot camp," the justicar replied.

I smiled back, disbelieving. No wonder Dad wouldn't give in to my pleas for a gun before I left.

James chuckled, a deep and reverberating sound, "Jeez, Lolita, what exactly did your friend do?"

I looked up from the wonderfullness that is my new gun to send him a questioning glance, "Well, other than saving my hide more times than I can count, nothing. Why?"

"What James is trying to say is that Shepard and Garrus seem to be... interrogating him. With the full force of their intimidation techniques, I might add," Liara cut in. I turned around in my chair, my hands never leaving my (_my!_) new rifle. I was amused to find that their observations seemed to be correct.

Dad's personality seemed to have taken an entire 180. His mischievous smile was replaced with an intimidating glare and he was utilizing every inch of his not inconsiderable height. Mom was sitting next to him, a head and a half shorter but seeming to be just as tall. Her usually kind face was replaced with her stony Commander poker face, not allowing a hint of emotion through.

To Sticky's credit, he wasn't completely cowering, though his stance suggested he definitely felt the effect of those stares. He was sitting respectfully, back straight and head bent down slightly, and he seemed to answer calmly to anything my parents threw at them.

I groaned, turning back around and digging my face into my hands, "Why must they always do this? They are, like, half the reason why I don't have any friends my age."

The other half was that I didn't meet a lot of kids my age. I had a lot of friends all over the galaxy, as a result of being the child of soldiers who made a lot of war buddies and liked to visit them, but they were all my parents age or older.

"Don't worry, Lolita. If he's anything like what you described him as, he'll pass their test with flying colors," James reassured me, grabbing a beer from a waitress walking by and winking at her. She walked away with a giggle and a larger sway in her hips. I rolled my eyes at the action.

The good thing about being friends with adults is that they don't treat you like a kid. The bad thing is that they have no problem acting like flirty horndogs in your presence.

Well, at least James, Jack, and Zaeed don't have a problem with it. The others generally keep it cool.

Wait a second. My mind went off track for a little there.

"Test?" I asked, "What test?"

James froze with his bottle halfway to his lips, "Er, no test at all. Just a friendly chat. Between your parents and your old friend..." he trailed off, looking at the asari on either side of him to help him out. Liara sighed and exchanged a glance with Samara, almost as if she was asking _You want to say it or should I?_

Samara pulled away from the look, taking over the situation, "Young one, what I believe James meant was that we are all concerned for your well-being and we must be assured that your friend Sticky has not changed in the amount of time you two have been apart. In order for us to all be reassured of your safety, your parents have taken over the responsibility of... questioning him."

I sighed. I love my parents, I really do, but they make the word 'overprotective' an understatement. There was a reason why the media has never seen Titus and I before I pushed to join the turian military.

Time to run interference.

I grabbed my new Mantis and tucked it under my arm, getting up from the table and sending the three a nod goodbye. I jogged lightly towards where my parents and my best friend were parked, putting an excited bounce in my step and an energetic smile on my face. I knew just how to manipulate my parents, using one of their two biggest weaknesses against them.

What are these weaknesses, you ask? They are, in fact, their love for Titus and I. They may not be doormats, but my brother and I have them both wrapped around our fingers.

"Sticky, Sticky, look!" I exclaimed, sliding in next to him and across from Mom and Dad. All of them immediately lost most of their stiffness. Mom and Dad turned off 'soldier mode' while Sticky still remained a little apprehensive, though not as much as he was a few moments earlier.

"What is it, Bug?" he asked, a flash of relief evident in his eyes. I smiled back, pushing the gun kit onto the table, letting the evidence do the talking for me.

"Is this a Mantis? Not bad for a first gun," he commented, pulling the container closer so he could look at the specs.

"Thanks, Mom and Dad! I love it! By the time I'm done modding it I may just have you beat, old man," I said, smiling largely. They smiled back so largely that I could tell that they were, in fact, the ones who asked Samara to get it for me.

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" Mom asked, "We had nothing to do with this present that Samara gave you at all. Nope. It was all her."

Dad rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head slightly. Mom was a horrible liar. My smile turned even bigger, so much so that my face will probably hurt in the morning. I slid out of my seat next to Sticky, bouncing around the edge of the table and throwing myself at my parents. I ended up throwing an arm around each of them, squeezing my butt in between the both of them with my legs still resting on top of Dad's lap.

"Thanks, Mom and Dad. I love you both," I said softly, first bumping Mom's temple with mine and then Dad's, though I had to tug his head down so I didn't have to kneel awkwardly on the bench to reach him. I scrambled out of the seat after the motion, feeling incredibly sappy and not wanting to look too much at the equally sappy look on both of their faces. If I did, I would have been redder than a tomato.

I wasn't good with emotions. I turn into an awkward mess, if it wasn't obvious.

Wanting to divert the attention away from how I always manage to awkward up family moments, I plop myself beside Sticky again and look up at him.

"So, Stickman, why where you at the conference anyway?" I finally asked, the question bothering me since I first realized it was him. He smiled widely back, pulling up his omni-tool to its document program. I saw that there was a list of names on there.

"Well, when you're a junior officer who is the assistant to the drill sergeant training one of the two mysterious children of Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian, you kind of want to see what you're expecting."

My mouth dropped open at the information. I'm pretty sure a few flies made their way in there.

"You mean..." I trailed off.

"Yep. Corporal Terin Caetus, here to help break you in basic," his smirk was almost as bad as Dad's. I think he's excited about the prospect.

Knowing Sticky, this is both a great and horrible situation to be in.

**A/N: Yep... haven't updated in half a year. Not that I was planning on letting this go on for a long time, no more than two or three chapters left, but I was hit by the double-whammy of the procrastination monster and the writer's block wall. And I'm working now, an hourly associate at one of the many wonderful culinary institutions America is so proud of (read: it's a job and I hate it, but at least I get money). And I really should be writing a massive summer essay for my senior year of high school that I'm hoping will disappear if I ignore it (a philosophy nobody should follow because it'll come back and bite you in the ass. Don't be like me, kids). And I should be editing some of the minor mistakes I've found when re-reading this but I'm also sick with a terminal case of lazy. **

**The main reason I'm updating this is 1) I found this chapter on my hard drive after months of not thinking about it and it inspired me to finish and 2) I'd feel guilty if I try to start a project while this one is permanently on hiatus. So I'm making it not on hiatus by finishing it. **

**Yes, there is another idea in my head and while it may not amount to anything I'd still feel guilty not finishing this before starting a new story. If there's one thing my mom taught me, it's that you always finish what you started and always do what you say you'll do. Wait, that's two things. Well, you get the idea. ****I'm trying to finish this. Hopefully the half-thought-through thoughts in my head can lead to a fulfilling enough ending.**


End file.
